


Where I Can't Follow

by morning_sun



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, God Bill Cipher, Growing Up, Healthy Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines, Human Bill Cipher, I finally updated, M/M, Masturbation, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post-Finale, Post-Weirdmageddon, Romance, Temporarily Unrequited Love, The Mindscape, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morning_sun/pseuds/morning_sun
Summary: “Why is this happening Bill?” Dipper groaned, and bit by bit Bill’s smile faded. He murmured, so low Dipper barely had time to catch it, “A different form, a different time.”





	1. Within the Birch Tree

 

_Sixty degrees that come in threes_

_Watches from within birch trees._

_Saw his own dimension burn._

_Misses home and can’t return._

_Says he’s happy. He’s a liar._

_Blame the arson for the fire._

_If he wants to shirk the blame,_

_He’ll have to invoke my name._

_One way to absolve his crime._

_A different form, a different time._

_-Axolotl_

 

~*~

 

**DIPPER**

 

The first time he felt it, that little niggling in the back of his mind, Dipper had been fifteen.

 

Looking back, it all made sense. It had been near the end of the season, and he and Mabel had been slowly packing away the last bits of their summer vacation before the inevitable return to California, and another year long wait to return to Gravity Falls. Mable had been trying to shove the accumulation of hand knit sweaters she’d made over the months into a suitcase that was nowhere near big enough to fit them, and Dipper had been lying on his stomach- fishing under his bed for the set of charcoal pencils that he knew he’d dropped on just his second day in the Shack. They’d been talking- Dipper couldn’t even begin to remember about what- when they’d heard the crash of broken glass and the ominous thump of dead weight hitting the floor.

 

The doctor had said it was a stroke, and Grunkle Stan was lucky it had been so mild. But it hadn’t dulled the absolute horror or panic that had speared through Dipper like a knife as he and Mabel had clamored down the Shack’s stairs, Mabel chanting, “No, no no, no, no, no, _no_ ,” as they entered the kitchen to find their Great Uncle's crumpled body. Dipper knew he’d called 911, even though he didn’t remember it later. The only thing he remembered were Mabel's sobs and, eventually, Ford’s hands as he pulled away the phone and hugged him tightly to his chest. Dipper realized with slow shock that his body was shaking like it had been thrust into an icy lake.

 

Later, Mabel would tell him that he’d been screaming at the 911 operator- telling them over and over to “ _Please hurr_ y.”

 

The Pines twins in a crisis were a pitiful state, it seemed. At least, when it came to their Grunkle Stan.

 

The old man had teased them later about their panic, but not too much. Instead he’d held the both of them close, never complaining about the space they invaded in his small hospital bed, only grousing minimally at the tears both Dipper and Mabel left on his shoulders.

 

“It’ll take more than that to get rid of your old Grunkle Stan!” he’d quipped.

 

Later, as he’d fallen into a restless sleep, Dippers last conscious thought had been, _“I’m glad he’s not dead.”_

 

It had not been his own.

 

* * *

 

Bill didn’t talk to him those first few years he occupied Dipper's head space, and Dipper didn’t notice him. He was always there though, on the edge of his consciousness, Dipper only half aware that the demon was taking up headspace. It wasn’t a realization he immediately acknowledged, either. Dipper had blinders on those first years, unwilling to even entertain the idea that Bill had somehow been transferred to his own consciousness. That manic laughter Dipper had been unable to hold back during the anniversary showing of The Exorcist? Probably all the fake green vomit. Those twinges of inexplicable anger and frustration when he looked into the mirror? Dipper chalked them up to this awkward teenaged body that stared back at him- all long limbs and red skin. The absolute joy he felt whenever someone near him would befall some sort of minor misfortune? Schadenfreude, most likely.

 

He didn’t _really_ admit to himself that it was Bill up there, rattling around in his brain, until the end of his senior year in High School.

 

His world history teacher, an older man who was clearly phoning in that last leg of his career and had spent most of the year showing them various films as he napped at his desk, had the class watching a documentary about Roman History. It was a subject that might be interesting if taught by someone who gave a damn. Instead they’d been relegated to a dusty old VHS that was narrated by some stuffy sounding Britt.

 

“ _Of the four classes of people, patriarchs held the real power of Rome- shaping its destiny for nearly 500 years,”_ the narrator droned- his voice having already lulled several students into a coma like stupor.

 

Dipper had ignored the video- instead doodling in the margins of his notebook- starting with large looping spirals and curved lines that turned into snakes with long twisting bodies and wide mouths that showed off impressive fangs. From one of the spirals came the curved body of a scorpion- its stinger disproportionately larger than the rest of its body and dripping with venom.

 

_“The Senate would appoint a counsel who would rule as though a king might…”_

 

Dipper drew a square, filling it in with shading and penciling in dark lines of vines and thorns that seemed to choke. He was only half listening to the video, knowing that later he’d just read about the rise and fall of Rome on his own.

 

“ _Of all the threats Rome faced, Carthaginians were its greatest enemy.”_

 

More long minutes of monotone, and infinity signs were added to Dippers sheet of notes, which still lacked any information whatsoever regarding Roman history.

 

_“Of all the battles and wars, the most noteworthy was surely brought upon Rome by the great Carthaginian General, Hannibal.”_

 

Dipper threw a scowl to the television, personally offended that a topic so interesting could be made so mind numbingly dull by the voice of one narrator.

 

He drew a triangle.

 

Sitting there in the darkened room, Dipper looked down at the image he’d just scrawled in the very center of his paper, frowning.

 

**_*Looks real nice kid. Maybe add an eye though?*_ **

 

Dipper felt his blood stop. His pencil clattered from his hands, and his breath left him in a great whoosh- as though he’d been hit in the stomach. His mind ceased to work- the only thought able to come to him after a long moment of ear ringing static being, _Bill._

 

He’d excused himself from class- ignoring the incredulous look from his grey haired teacher and heading straight to the bathroom, which was mercifully empty. He stood there, shaking and near hyperventilating, afraid to look into the mirror. Would he see yellow eyes and snake-like pupils? Would a sneer of victory stretch across his face, and his body be thrust into Bill’s control? How quickly could he find a hand puppet to warn Mabel and the others?

 

But when he did look into the mirror, there was no trace of Bill Cipher. There was only Dipper Pines, with his shaggy brown hair and his acne marred cheeks staring back at him.

 

“Bill?” he’d whispered to his frightened looking image.

 

But there had been no answer.

 

* * *

 

Time went by with still not a word from the demon who Dipper now knew occupied his headspace. After that first contact Dipper had spent weeks upon weeks doing research- desperate to find a way to eject Bill from his mind. On his return to Gravity Falls that summer he’d sought out his Great Uncle Ford, telling him in a great rush of panic all that had happened. The man had cautioned him against telling his twin, or Grunkle Stan, and together they had spent the entire summer trying to prod Bill out of his mind- with no success. Instead, each failed attempt brought what seemed to Dipper an amused smile from the entity in his mind, as though he could feel the demons silent laughter.

 

“If we were able to exorcise him… could he regain his power?”

 

It had been this question, asked by Dipper after another gloriously botched endeavor- which had  involved a circle of salt during a meteor shower- that had stopped them from trying to extricate Bill from his mind.

 

“Try and stay vigilant,” Ford had told him, with a promise to keep researching ways to destroy the demon. “And for the love of God, don’t make any deals.”

 

It had been disheartening advice, but Dipper had tried to follow it.

 

The problem was that Bill never talked to him- not since that one time in class. Now it seemed he’d gone silent, and Dipper hardly ever noticed him- and if he did, it was only in impressions. Amusement at a joke or a movie. Annoyance by a comment thrown in Dippers direction. Frustration that was not his own over who knew what. It all came from something decidedly not him, and Dipper knew it was Bill, silently watching his life pass by and seemingly unable to do much about it.

 

For a while, it was hard to ignore Bills silent presence. Dipper started his Freshman year of college and felt paranoid with every moment of his existence- but mostly in the shower, on the toilet, and during any potentially sexually charged situation. It was the latter that was most frustrating, and Dipper went months without relieving the hardness between his legs that he seemed to wake with every morning. He’d almost cried when he had finally broken and hurriedly taken care of himself.

 

Bill had watched him masturbate. The thought was mortifying.

 

He had lain there in his bed, waiting in horror for some sort of disgusted commentary on Bill’s part.

 

It never came.

 

Eventually, Dipper barely thought of the demon in his head. Or, rather, he didn’t worry over him. Every thought he had, every silent remark he let go unspoken, was directed toward Bill. This was entirely unintentional, an involuntary side effect of knowing someone is with you during your every waking moment, and feeling as though each action of your life needed an explanation. Someone would say something idiotic, and Dipper would think “ _Jesus, can you believe this guy?_ ”, and Bill would seem to nod in agreement. Dipper might do something embarrassing- like trip in front of a cute girl, or stutter over the flirty banter of an attractive guy- and he would think, “ _Could I get any more awkward?!”_ , and receive the distinct impression of a rolling eye.

 

All his thoughts were now Bill-inclusive, without his ever making a conscious decision for them to be so. It seemed an instinctive reaction on his brains part.

 

_“I’m starving, let's get breakfast.”_

 

_“Did you see that car cut me off?!”_

 

_“Mabels new boyfriend is a jerk! She sure knows how to pick them.”_

 

Sometimes Bill remained impassive, ignoring Dipper's running commentary, but most times there was a feeling of acknowledgement, of Bill silently agreeing or disagreeing, of Bill sneering or huffing or laughing- all without sound or words.  

 

It was another two years before Dipper heard Bill again.

 

* * *

 

Someone had made jello shots.

 

Dipper was twenty-one, and Mabel had dragged him to his first college party- something he’d successfully avoided during his entire college career. It was just as cliched as he might have imagined, with keg stands and beer pong and drunken girls letting frat bros do body shots from increasingly scandalous places. Someone had eventually led him to circular card table and cajoled him into playing Kings, and when he’d popped the tab on the cheap can of beer Dipper had been forced to drink it to the resounding chanting of “chug, chug, chug!”

 

He was already drunk when the jello shots appeared- seemingly from nowhere- and damn them for being so easy to take. He mingled with familiar faces, and each group he went to seemed to have a shot ready for him. He’d already done four of them in a row when the alcohol hit him, and mixing with the beers already in his stomach he felt the world sway.

 

“Are you Mason Pines?”

 

His head felt heavy as he turned to look at the speaker of the question.

 

He had short hair that rested in casual disarray and shined a brown so dark it was nearly black. Pale skin, eyes large and brown, and a little dimpled smirk. He was no less than gorgeous, and Dipper thought he might recognize the boy from one of his classes.

 

“Uh...yeah,” he heard himself say. “Yeah… People call me uh, Dipper,” he corrected, turning to face the youth, leaning heavily against the nearest wall and hoping he didn’t look as drunk as he felt.

 

Bill gave a derisive snort in his mind, and Dipper ignored him.

 

He introduced himself as Seth, and the longer they talked, the closer they seemed to gravitate. Dipper wondered why the hell this porcelain god was speaking to him- absolutely unaware of the effect he himself had on others. In the past few years Dipper’s skin had cleared and his body had evened out with his height, muscles finally making their presence known after years of trekking around looking for adventure. He was square jawed like his uncles, and had what his mother called intelligent eyes- brown and full of a sweetness that rarely hardened. He’d grown tall and handsome, and the only one who hadn’t realized this was Dipper- still looking in the mirror and only able to see an average boy that still only teetered on the cusp of manhood.

 

Through his haze, Dipper’s gaze flicked briefly to Seth’s mouth, and with a smirk the dark haired man stood on tiptoe to brush his lips against Dipper’s own.

 

It wasn’t until they had stumbled into a small bathroom, hands wandering and bodies pressed tightly and hips grinding- that Dipper finally realized with a start that a voice had been trying to get his attention for some time now.

 

**_*Pine Tree. Hey… Hey Pine Tree!!*_ **

 

Dipper pulled away, his lips smacking loudly and his mind feeling foggy with alcohol and shock.

“Yeah?”

 

Seth gave a look of inquiry, swollen lips parting in question, and Dipper felt himself blush.

 

“I... thought you said something,” he provided lamely.

 

**_*You don’t have to answer me out loud genius, I can hear everything you think.*_ **

 

Tentatively Dipper thought to himself, _“Bill?”_

 

There was a disbelieving pause before Bill snapped, ***** ** _No_ ** **_, it’s the_ ** **_other_ ** **_demon living in your head.*_ **

 

Dipper’s face contorted in annoyance.

 

_“Christ, sorry!”_

 

 ** _*Less stupid questions more listening, kid!*_** Bill hissed. ***** ** _And close your mouth, you look like a fish.*_**

 

Dipper closed his mouth and took a great step back, Seth looking at him cautiously now.

 

 _“What do you want, Bill?”_ Dipper thought to the demon.

 

**_*You know this meat bag from Gravity Falls, Pine Tree.*_ **

 

A look of surprise contorted Dipper’s features.

 

_“I do?”_

 

**_*Yeah, and your history ain’t so great.*_ **

 

A memory flashed before him so swiftly it could only have been put there by Bill, and Dipper recalled with sudden clarity that the boy before him had once dated Mabel.

 

Dipper had been sixteen, and he’d caught the little twerp trying to talk his sister into more than just the few innocent kissed she’d been willing to give, her back pressed against the totem and her hands pushing him away. The end result had not been pretty.

 

 _“Oh…_ _oh_ _.”_

 

 **_*Yeah,_ ** **_oh_** ** _. Ha! You look like an idiot, Pine Tree! You’ve just been standing here for the last minute like a moron!*_ **

 

Dipper shook his head, suddenly aware that Seth was looking mildly concerned at his lack of vocalization.

 

“You alright?”

 

Dipper shook his head once more and nodded. “I’m drunk.”

 

It was certainly true, and the dark haired boy he’d given a black eye five years ago seemed to accept this as excuse enough.

 

Suddenly, Seth was very close. “I could take you home.”

 

**_*Red flags, kid!*_ **

 

Dipper gulped and shook his head. “Uh… n-no. I uh, I came with my sister.”

 

Dipper took a small step back, throwing a wild look around the small bathroom- as though an escape route other than the door barred by Seth might present itself.

 

“Oh. … You have a sister?”

 

Dipper grimaced and eyed Seth, only able to nod as a response, rubbing the back of his neck in irritation. He felt flushed and unpleasantly dizzy and utterly confused- his arousal now completely dissipated.

 

 _What the fuck is going on?_ Was all his sluggish mind seemed to be able to think, and in his head Bill seemed to shrug.

 

**_*Who knows Pine Tree, but I’d suggest not sticking around to find out.*_ **

 

Bill was right, it was time to go.

 

“Sorry… I need to go,” Dipper mumbled, trying to maneuver around Seth without touching him- a feat impossible with the two left feet he’d acquired in his drunken state. He stumbled, and Seth steadied him with two hands on his shoulders.

 

“Come on,” the dark haired boy murmured- voice taking on a soothing quality and hands running up and down his arms. “I thought at least one of you might be cooperative.”

 

The words were like a fist to the face, and Dipper jerked away from Seth, his face set in a feral growl. From where he stood- a full head shorter than Dipper, Seth laughed.

 

“You recognize me,” he sighed, letting Dipper skid away from his pawing hands.

 

“It took a minute,” Dipper snapped.

 

 **_*More than a minute.*_ ** Bill intoned.

 

“I am drunk!” Dipper nearly shouted. 

 

Seth raised a brow and chuckled. “Yes I know,” he assured.

 

“I’m not talking to you,” Dipper barked, and Seth’s brow rose higher.

 

“... You’re very strange, Mason Pines.”

 

Dipper glared. “I’m leaving.”

 

Seth raised his hands in a gesture of allowance. “And I won’t stop you,” he replied.

 

He took a step back, allowing Dipper room to grab the door handle and turn it.

 

“You know, it was always you I liked. Not your sister.”

 

Dippers lip curled, his hand tightening on the door knob.

 

“You had a better ass,” Seth continued, voice light and amused. “Easily.”

 

Dipper turned to look Seth, and in his mind Bill also seemed to glare at the boy before him.

 

“Why did you do this?”

 

Seth gave an exaggerated sigh and shrugged. “It was a whim, really. I saw you tonight and thought it would be funny to fuck you. To wake up next to you and watch you realize what you’d done.”

 

In his mind, Bill snarled.

 

“I thought it would be even better to tell your pretty sister what you’d done,” Seth continued. “Show her that her sweet protective brother had just been jealous all those years ago.”

 

They stared at each other for some time- the three of them. Seth smiled, Dipper fumed, and within his mind, Bill seemed to shake with outrage.

 

**_*Hit him again Pine Tree.*_ **

 

Dipper huffed and instead turned and left, finally free of the small bathroom as a wash of loud music and scattered conversation seemed to pour over him. He stood there in the hall for long moments, trying to ignore the foreign anger that was Bill- whose disappointment at the lack of violence brought against Seth was made apparent. In his mind, the demon seethed and quivered with unspoken fury. But Dipper pushed that aside to breathe, to try and find his footing. He was angry… but something else was bothering him, and he thought he might be too drunk to pin down exactly what it was.

 

He found Mabel- who was the picture of sobriety, and who happily drove him back to his dorm. On the drive back she listened to him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow as he told her about Seth.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry Dipper,” she’d said, parking on the curb and leaning across the seat to hug him. “Boys are jerks.”

 

Dipper hugged her back and let his head rest on her shoulder- not nearly as inebriated as he had been- but still feeling out of sorts and sluggish.

 

“Are you angry with me?”

 

Mabel pushed him up, holding him by his shoulders and forcing eye contact.

 

“No. Never,”  she insisted. “And that’s what he wanted, to make both of us angry. He’s a jealous little twerp. Don’t worry about it Bro-Bro.”

 

But he did. She’d left after helping him to his door, and after a moment he realized that his skin felt as though it were crawling.

 

Seth’s hands had been all over him.

 

He’d taken a scalding hot shower, puking violently and watching as it swirled away down the drain. When he exited the water his skin was pink and bright from scrubbing, but he felt better. He’d gulped down two glasses of water with a handful of Advil, and every ten seconds he seemed to have to push away the memory of Seth- more confused with every passing moment.

 

**_*Go to sleep, Pine Tree.*_ **

 

He did, head spinning as his tilted world faded into blackness.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks went by in a sort of fog, and Dipper seemed to move on auto pilot. He ate his meals, attended his classes, and completed his homework as he’d always done- only now the switch seemed to be set to off.

 

But not in reality. In reality, nearly every attempt at self care was the direct result of Bill and _not_ some sort of automatic sense memory.

 

**_*Eat your food, kid.*_ **

 

**_*Come on genius, you’re gonna be late to class.*_ **

 

Bill, with an even tone and a gentle voice- as though he were speaking to a frightened animal with it’s foot in a trap.

 

**_*Go to sleep, Pine Tree.*_ **

 

It was the last that was said each night, as Dipper lay in bed with wide open eyes staring unseeingly into the darkness of his room.

 

It was one morning weeks later, while he was brushing his teeth, that he finally broke.

 

He looked into the mirror and stared- his gaze into his own eyes intent.

 

**_*Just say it kid.*_ **

 

Dipper's jaw worked and he let his hands rest on each side of his sink, leaning heavily onto it as though it might help steady him.

 

“I almost gave my virginity to some asshole while I was drunk.”

 

His heart seemed to skip and clench, and Dipper's hands tightened around the porcelain beneath his palms.

 

He had to look away from the mirror, with it’s reflection of watery eyes that threatened tears. Tears of shame and anger, which he hid in the splash of cold water to his face.

 

**_*You didn’t.*_ **

 

“Almost.”

 

* * *

 

Dipper didn’t realize that he hadn’t dreamed for the last six years until he finally had one.

 

It was night, and he was in the woods that surrounded the Mystery Shack, by a lake in a clearing. The moon shined and reflected off the dark water- so smooth it looked like glass. In the forest crickets chirruped and leaves stirred with each small gust of warm air, and all around him fireflies blinked in a happy yellow glow.

 

“I think this is my favorite place in your memories, Pine Tree.”

 

Dipper looked to his left, and there he was, so close he would only need to reach out a hand to touch him.

 

In this place, in this moment, he was a man. A man who looked lithe and tall- taller, even, than Dipper himself, sat with long legs stretched out before him on the bank of the little lake, water lapping at his bare feet. His hair was as black as the void between stars and looked wild and windswept, and his skin was so bronzed it seemed nearly golden. When he turned his head to look at Dipper, with his face that was all sharp angles that proved somehow elegant, it was blue eyes that found his own- a blue so dark that without the light of the moon they could have been mistaken as black.

 

He knew it was Bill, was even unsurprised by his appearance. Gone was the Triangle, and here before him sat a man- and it somehow fit. There was no hat, no bow tie- only a white cloth that Dipper's mind helpfully identified as a toga.

 

When Dipper finally found his voice he asked, “Is this a trap?”

 

Bill gave a little huff of laughter and shook his head.

 

“Only for me kid.”

 

He wasn’t afraid- hell, this was a dream after all. But something in his mind gave the faintest whisper of caution. Bill sighed, and with a roll of his eyes he looked back out across the lake, ignoring Dipper. The last tendrils of warning seemed to slip away with this one action, and without much of a thought Dipper sunk down next to Bill, soft grass beneath his palms and the tips of his flannel pajama bottoms becoming wet with the ebb of water that soaked into them.

 

“Is this real?”

 

Bills face didn’t change as he continued to stare out into the night- his eyes skimming over the reflective water and woods that surrounded it.

 

“It’s both,” he finally replied. “We’re here, and we’re not.”

 

Dipper scowled at the man beside him.

 

“Helpful,” he deadpanned.

 

Bill smirked and cut his eyes to Dipper once more.

 

“It’s a dream, Pine Tree. But it’s really happening.”

 

It almost hurt to look away from the man beside him, but Dipper managed. They sat in silence with only the wind and the crickets and the water seeming to speak.

 

“Not going to ask about this form?”

 

Dipper glanced over at him, and after a moment shrugged. The body next to his was startling- unearthly. But, somehow, it was as though the figure had been there for some time, its shadow always dancing on the edges of his mind.

 

“It just seems… normal?” It was the only word Dipper could think to use- though the description was far from truth.

 

Bill gave a sad little half smile, leaning back onto his elbows and looking into the night- eyes seeming to investigate every possible corner of blackened sky he could see.

 

“When you think about it tomorrow,” he said after a few long moments, “I’m sure you’ll have more questions.”

 

“Will I remember this tomorrow?” Dipper asked, worrying at his bottom lip. When Bill looked at him once again, his eyes seemed to fix on the lip between Dippers teeth in an almost predatory fashion, and with a sudden surge of self consciousness Dipper released it and felt his neck turn red.

 

“Why wouldn’t you remember this?” Bill asked softly.

 

Dipper sighed with frustration (at what he did not know), and narrowed his eyes at the man beside him.

 

“Seems like a Bill sort of thing to do,” he replied, voice waspish.

 

Bill held his gaze for a long, searching minute, and Dipper was forced to look into sharp almond shaped eyes, unable to look away.

 

“You’re probably right kid,” Bill finally said, and when he looked away Dipper let out a breath he hadn’t even realized that he had been holding.

 

They were enveloped in silence again, with the moon ticking across the expanse of sky as the night progressed, and Dipper felt a million questions race through his mind- none of which he articulated out loud.

 

Bill smirked at him.

 

“No, I can’t keep you here forever. No, I’m not going to kill you. And yes… I am aware of what I look like.”

 

Dipper blushed and ducked his head. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he grumbled, and Bill chuckled.

 

“Can’t help it!” he barked, teeth flashing white with his growing smile. “You an’ me- we’re connected kid! I couldn't stop it if I tried… And I’ve tried.”  

 

“Why is this happening Bill?” Dipper groaned, and bit by bit Bill’s smile faded.

 

He murmured, so low Dipper barely had time to catch it, “ _A different form, a different time.”_ And before Dipper had a chance to comment Bill quickly sat erect- startling Dipper enough that he gave a little yelp of surprise.

 

“Let's talk about something else,” he insisted, smile a bit forced, and Dippers brows furrowed.

 

“W-wha...Like what?”

 

Bill hummed a little and looked around, as though searching for a topic, before meeting Dippers gaze with eyes that danced with both triumph and mischief. It was obvious that this was the topic he’d been leading up to all along, because there was a deliberateness in his tone as he asked, “Did I ever tell you about when I was a God?”

 

“Eh...Excuse me?!”

 

Bill’s smile was crooked- the only thing that could be considered faulty in this form- and a quality that made him all the more captivating.

 

“Pine Tree,”  he grinned, reaching out to take Dipper's chin into his thumb and forefinger. “Let's catch up.”

* * *

 

**Follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/morning-sun-brah)!**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone still live in this fandom? If so, leave a comment and let me know what you think. Next up is Bill's POV- and more backstory!!


	2. A Different Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill realized one morning, as Dipper tiredly ordered his coffee before class, that he was absolutely, unequivocally, idiotically in love with Dipper Pines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Bill has somewhat of an actual canon backstory, but I am about to blatantly ignore that fact. *shrugs*
> 
> ALSO! This is an EXPLICIT fan fiction. Please don't read this if you are a baby. Bill and Dipper are adults, and you should be too.

 

~*~

 

**BILL**

 

Waking in Stanley Pines’ mind might have been infuriating for Bill, if he’d still been a demon.

 

If he had still been a demon, he would have clawed and screamed and raged in absolute fury. He would have found a way to rip himself from the man's mind he was now encased within, locked behind a thousand doors with a thousand chains. He would have ripped apart the consciousness of Stanley Pines, would have utterly ruined the prison in which he was currently shackled.

 

Instead, Bill had despaired.

 

He’d had no voice, no powers. All Bill had were memories. Horrible, terrible memories.

 

Of fire.

 

And death.

 

He may have clawed and screamed and raged, but each outburst was punctuated with broken sobs. Bill cried not just to be trapped- but for what he’d done, what he'd lost, and the realization that no one would ever know the truth. The man he inhabited didn’t remember him, and the people who did never gave his name a whisper. He was worse than dead, he was a lost soul.

 

His heart broke at that realization. He finally had his soul once more, the thing that made him, _him_ , and it meant nothing. It was the worst sort of irony. There was no body to put himself into, no vessel but the one he took residence in now-which was decidedly occupied.

 

All his memories, all his life before and after the dreamscape, it was all there now, given back to him at last, but wasted in the mind of Stanley Pines. Bill wished for true death. He wished for nothingness to take him away. He wished he had never said the words, never cried out the name that would bring him back from the void.

 

And then, he was silent.

 

With silence came the realization that, while subpar at best, he was living through the eyes of someone else. It might not be his own body, his own will, but it was better than darkness.

 

Bill became a quiet observer in the life of Stanley Pines, watching his every day and grateful to have a distraction. He was with him as he sailed and traversed with Stanford, feeling the old man's exhilaration with each Adventure the two brothers found themselves in. Bill watched him return to Gravity Falls each summer, greeting Soos with gruff clap on the shoulder and giving his baby a whiskery kiss on its cheek. Bill felt the happiness in Stan’s heart as he waited for the bus that would bring his great niece and nephew, and Bill felt the love that filled Stan up- even when he tried to hide it- as they leaped into his open arms.

 

Bill watched the people whose lives he nearly destroyed, and felt a near constant ache in all that he had done. He remembered the demon that he had been, the monster who had played its part and had done so spectacularly.

 

At night, while Stan slept and Bill was left alone in darkness, he would sift through the old man's memories. He watched Stanley’s life as a child, as a teenager, as a young man. He watched as the man fell in and out of love, as dreams and hopes were dashed, as schemes fell around him into ruins. He watched as he lost Ford, as he searched for the books that would bring his twin back, as he clung to hope as only humans could.

 

As bittersweet as his life had been, and even with all his faults, Bill found that he quite liked Stanley Pines. If for nothing, it would not be so terrible to end his miserable existence in the mind of this man.

 

* * *

 

Bill knew it was going to happen moments before it actually did. Trapped as he was behind the doors and the chains, he felt the sudden tremor as Stanley's mind began to dislodge.

 

The old man had been in the kitchen, rummaging in the refrigerator for a midday meal, and his thoughts had been a bit forlorn- as they always were at the end of each summer when Dipper and Mabel were due to return to their parents in California. Their time in Gravity Falls was fast coming to an end, and this never failed to make Stan feel low.

 

It all happened so very quickly, but Bill remembered the panic that had set in when he realized that something horrible was about to take place. It had not been his own demise that had alarmed him, but rather that Stanley's life was going to end when it had only just begun to be a happy one.

 

Bill had expected darkness. Had expected there to be nothing waiting for him on the other side. He felt the chains break and the doors fly open, and he himself rocket into the void. A moment before it happened, Bill embraced it. He welcomed it. His wretched life was finally done.

 

But blackness quickly materialized into a new sort of prison. This one didn't have chains or doors or locks, but he was trapped there just the same. As he had opened his eye, Bill had been confused. His new vessel seemed to be in a panic, screaming over and over for someone to _please help_. After a long minutes he realized that it was Dipper's voice, and that it was Dipper's mind that he was now and inhabiting.

 

Bill felt very glad to see that Stan had not crossed into the void. As weeks raced by and he settled into this new place, with its memories in which he was free to roam, he tried to sort out why he had been thrust into this new prison. Bill tentatively concluded that it must be because he had once before possessed the boy, and the brief moment in which Stanley's mind had shut down had effectively ejected Bill from his mind- forcing him into the only other body he had ever possessed in close proximity.

 

As time went by, Bill came to three realizations.

The first was that he could manifest into an actual form. While it might be an illusion- not flesh and bone, but rather, a shadow, it was still better than the nothingness that had been his identity in Stan’s mind. Bill had quickly morphed into his demon triangle form without much thought- he had been that particular entity for trillions of years and it was second nature that this was what he would morph himself into at first chance. But as months went by Bill had realized that not only was this reflection of himself not a true representation of what he had originally been, it was also repulsive. This was the body of a monster, and Bill had not always been a monster. He had changed into his own original body after that, walking through the memories of Dipper's mind as the entity he’d once been- before the three angles of the demon he’d been turned to had ruined his life.  

 

Bill’s second realization was that he was free to roam in Dipper's memories as he had not been able to in Stan’s. There he had been chained and locked away- only able to watch memories from his stationary place, vaulted as he was to exactly one spot. But here, in Dipper’s psyche, he was as free as he might ever be. When Dipper slept, Bill was free. He could swim in Dippers memory of the Gravity Falls lake, and feel the water glide over him as though it were really there. He could watch a thousand sunsets, replay a thousand movies, read a thousand books, all at his own leisurely pace. He might miss Stan from time to time, but his situation was infinitely improved, living in Dipper's mind.

 

The third realization that Bill came to was that, if he so choose to, he would be able to communicate with Dipper.

 

The idea was initially abhorrent. Bill knew that not only would Dipper be unappreciative of having the ex-demon as a host within his mind, but that it would not matter how much he explained all that had happened to him, there would never be a time in which Dipper would trust Bill.

 

At first, Bill convinced himself that this was his atonement, and he would accept it. He would forever be the silent observer, no matter how much he pained for the conversation of another being. He did not deserve forgiveness. He did not deserve pity. He would live this meager existence until death took them both.

 

The issue was that it was impossible to detach himself from Dipper's life and mind. In the three years that it took for Bill to say anything at all to Dipper, he had a litany of close calls.

 

The absolute embarrassment that was watching Dipper try and fail to woo Wendy Corduroy was one of them. He would watch the boys endeavors with a scrunched face and knit brows- his skin crawling with shared humiliation as Dipper constantly made himself look foolish around the girl who very clearly only saw him as a friend. Bill found it hard not to burst out in exasperation during these awkward exchanges.

Bill also had an especially hard time during Dippers 16th year, as the boy grappled with his own sexuality. In his life before becoming a triangular demon, Bill had never spent much time thinking about his own sexuality. There had been men and women that he remembered lying with, men and women that he had even loved once. It was foreign and surprising to him that Dipper spent so much time worrying about the fact that not only did he find women attractive, but that there was the occasional boy that could make him look twice. Bill sometimes had found himself actually biting his tongue to keep from interjecting on Dippers near constant stream of worry, to tell him that it didn't matter. That beings far superior than him had always found beauty and both sexes, and there was nothing to be ashamed of.

 

There were other things that Bill had to keep quiet about- movies and books and classes that Bill had opinions on and which he forced to keep to himself, something that had never been easy for him to do. But of all the things that had made Bill want to make his appearance known, it was Dippers penance for danger that tested his resolve the most. The boy was absolutely reckless, especially during his summers at Gravity Falls where he would spend his time scaling up the sides of treacherous is looking Cliffs, go searching into the dark lairs of dangerous creatures, and throw himself headlong into situations that normal human beings- who were so fragile and easy to break- would altogether avoid. The experience was absolutely nerve-wracking, and it seemed that every day of summer was one in which Bill was sure Dipper was just one misstep from death.

 

It was odd, worrying about someone not out of any sense of self preservation, but because he did not want to see the boy hurt. As much as he had liked Stan Pines, he liked Dipper even more. The boy was kind to nearly a fault, and possessed traits that Bill valued immensely. He was smart and brave and strong, and Bill found his resolve to never make contact slowly slip.

 

Eventually he had, of course. Bill had broken down altogether- and in usual spectacular fashion.

 

When Dipper had sat in that class, doodling what he thought was nonsense but must have been some sort of subconscious of Bill's own memories, Bill hadn't been able to help himself. The snakes and scorpions, even the sloppy infinity signs. Bill had been so very intrigued to find that Dipped must sense him, somehow. In the background the television had droned on about Rome- a heritage as close to his own this world could get, and Bill had watched in quiet amazement as Dipper scrawled his past onto a single sheet of paper.

 

And then he’d drawn a triangle.

 

Bill hadn’t been able to stop himself.

 

The boy had reacted just as Bill had always known he would. With fear and loathing and panic. Months went by and Dipper spent every waking one of them trying to eject Bill from his mind- understandably so. He was paranoid, each thought a cringing realization the Bill was there with him, hearing and feeling and seeing his every move.

 

Bill wanted to tell him that it was all fine, wanted to explain to him that what he’d been was dead and gone. Bill wanted to tell him about the man, the _God_ , that he had been before the demon. But the demon had done a number on Dipper, and Bill knew that anything he might say would be thought of as just another of his lies. Anything Bill might be able to show him of his own past would be a seen as a manipulation.

 

Dipper would believe his past to be fabricated, and rightly so. There was nothing that he could think of that would make the boy hear him, that would right his wrongs.

 

And so Bill let time continue to tick by, saying naught.

 

It was an interesting thing though, how Dipper ultimately reacted. As months wore on, the boy seemed to come to the realization that not only was Bill there with him, but that he was paying attention. And while they never actually had conversation, Dipper certainly talked to him enough- almost without realizing what he was doing.

 

Dipper constantly spoke to Bill, provided a continuing running commentary in his mind as though he thought Bill deserved an explanation. Bill didn’t know enough about shared mind space to decide if this was a normal reaction- but he couldn’t help but appreciate it. He’d gone so long without interaction that, as inadvertent as it may be, the acknowledgement and inclusion into Dipper’s life was outstanding. Bill thrived on Dipper’s constant narration. Bill would nod and agree. He would smile and scoff and laugh and fume, and all the while Dipper subconsciously seemed to accept that, now, Bill was a part of his life.

 

It took another year for Bill to realise he was in love with Dipper Pines.

 

* * *

 

He’d grown so handsome, that one day, when Dipper looked into the mirror and Bill actually caught a nice long glimpse of him, his breath had been taken away. Bill was already infatuated- he was with the boy every waking moment, how could he _not_. Except… he was no boy now. Dipper was a man. He was tall and square jawed and full lipped, and Bill had watched him look into the mirror and try and sort out his hair with clenched fists and wide eyes.

 

Bill had shoved the image of the handsome man away later, when he remembered it, but it reappeared often enough that Bill got so he remembered every minute detail of Dipper's face.

 

As time progressed, Bill seemed to catch other things about Dipper. Things he’d always known, but now lingered on. His kindness, his humor, his thirst for knowledge. More often than naught, Bill was a happy hanger-on, in constant enjoyment of Dipper's life, craving the times when Dipper would make an errant comment in his direction.

 

Bill worried at this, and- as though he might wish for further torture- he began to pay more attention to Dipper’s other activities as well.

 

Any other time, when Dipper might take himself to hand, Bill would steadfastly ignore him. Eyes closed, trying to drown out the lustful thoughts that weighed Dipper's mind, Bill would recite to himself all manner of things; the American presidents, the many different species of birds, every character in Dipper’s beloved _Game of Thrones_ novels. Typically, Bill felt lecherous and uncomfortable in these moments, knowing that Dipper absolutely did _not_ appreciate this part of their connection. But one night, as he’d been halfway through listing off the elements of the periodic table, Bill had become unfocused in his resolve to ignore the situation. The memory of Dipper in the mirror had materialized, and Bill had opened his eyes and been suddenly riveted to the scene before him.

 

Dipper knew exactly what he liked. Pressure at the base of his cock, a long and firm drag upwards, and a thumb over the head of himself. He was slow and steady, his wrist twisting from time to time, his free hand running up and down his chest. Bill was convinced that the best part of this scene was the way Dipper arched his back and bit his lip as he came into his hand.

 

Another week went by, then two, and Bill realized one morning, as Dipper tiredly ordered his coffee before class, that he was absolutely, unequivocally, _idiotically_ in love with Dipper Pines.

 

Bill was back to dispair, after that.

 

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!_

 

Stupid as it might be though, Bill knew it didn’t change the truth. And, quite suddenly, his happy captivity turned into hell. Bill was miserable, in love with someone whose mind he’d invaded. Captive inside a man who hated him, whose life he had nearly ruined.

 

Bill imagined that at some point, Dipper would fall in love, and Bill would have to be there to watch it happen. He would have to sit back and silently observe as Dipper got to know this phantom person. He would be there when he made love to another, when he married another, perhaps even have children with another. The thought of Dipper in someone else's arms, making eternal vows to an image that was decidedly not him, made Bill’s chest hurt. It was selfish, he knew, but thinking on it made him shake with anger, made him want to scream at Dipper until he went mad (and childishly Bill thought that  _that_ would keep away any hypothetical lovers).

 

It was then that _the plan_ came to him- slowly, piecing itself together in fragments. He could introduce himself, his _real self,_ in dreams. He could show Dipper the truth, show him his past. He could make Dipper see what had happened to him. Dipper already spoke to him like a friend, perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard?

 

What Bill had not accounted for was Seth. The moment Dipper had laid eyes on him, Bill's gaze had narrowed in suspicion, a niggling feeling of remembrance in the back of his mind as he hurriedly sifted through Dipper’s memories, looking for where he knew the short little weasel of a boy who was now grinding on his vassal.

 

Seth had catapulted the plan into earlier fruition.

 

He’d yelled at Dipper until the drunk idiot finally noticed him, and when it was all said and done Bill wished for the first time the ability to leave Dipper’s mind- if only to eviscerate Seth into the smallest pieces of carnage and feed him to stray dogs.

 

In the aftermath of the confrontation with Seth, Dipper went low. Bill felt he should be happy that now he could speak to the boy without being screamed at in fear and rage, but he had not wanted _this_. He’d had to stop himself from shouting at Dipper to snap out of it many a time, his own fury at the situation never lessening. Seth had made Dipper feel used and cheap and stupid. He had hurt this man that Bill had decided to love. A man who was too good for the world around him.

 

Bill would never forgive Seth.

 

* * *

 

Bill privately called Dipper’s memory the Midnight Lake, and he’d chosen that particular place for a myriad of reasons. For one, it was the epitome of calm- a picturesque scene. In Dippers true memory, he’d walked right past with only the barest of glances. On top of that, this was a place where Dipper felt safe. A place in Gravity Falls, where he would always welcome.  It did not hurt that the setting was also somewhat romantic, with the warm air and the fireflies and the lapping of water.

 

Things had started fantastically.

 

When Bill had touched Dipper- finger and thumb pressed on his chin- he had been tempted to abandon his original plan and just pin the man to earth beneath them. Bill had wanted to rake a hand through wavy brown hair, had wanted to feel long legs wrap around his waist, had wanted to bruise the lips hung open in shock with a hard kiss.

 

He, of course, did none of these things. It had been a long road to get to this point, six years of mostly silent observation, and he wasn’t about to ruin it all by scaring away his host. Instead Bill stood, pushing away lust, determined to take things slow, determined to explain everything to the man who still saw him as a monster.

 

“A… A God?”

 

Bill rolled his eyes at Dipper’s tone and held a hand down to him, opening and closing it impatiently when it was not immediately taken. Bill pulled Dipper to his feet, perhaps holding on a bit too long, perhaps yanking him a bit too close, but he did let go- and that was something, he felt.

 

“Yes, Pine Tree, a God.”

 

They stared at each other then, Dipper's eyes mistrusting, Bill’s expression teetering between impassive and amused.

 

Finally Dipper said, “You’re lying.”

 

Bill gave a little huff of laughter through his nose and shrugged. He’d expected this, had been surprised at the calm Dipper had initially exhibited when he stepped on the bank of this memory. But Bill knew just what he was in this form- the _original_ form. He was beauty, perfection, and, when it came to men, he was just Dippers type. Red headed women might turn his head, but dark haired men had always given Dipper pause, Seth being a prime (if not disgusting) example. Dipper might not trust Bill (but he wanted to, Bill could feel it), but he was without a doubt attracted to him _._ With this image of himself Bill reasoned that perhaps he could coerce Dipper into trusting him.

 

“Believe what you will,” Bill said with a shrug. “But I’ve got no reason to lie to you, Mason.”

 

Bill did not miss the way Dipper’s cheeks seemed to brighten, and he smirked.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Dipper hissed. “And you have every reason to lie to me! This… this is probably some trap!”

 

Bill arched a brow. “The end game being… _?_ ”

 

Dipper made an exasperated little noise and threw his hands into the air. “I don’t know! To escape my mind? To get me to trust you? To kill me in my sleep?”

 

Bill chuckled. “I’m not that stupid, Pine Tree. If you die, I die too- in case you didn’t know. And as much as I _adore_ this body, I have no wish to see it manifested.”

 

Dipper pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “Ah-Ha! But you _do_ want me to trust you, _right?!_ ”

 

Again Bill raised a brow. “Would that be such a terrible thing kid?”

 

Dipper sneered. “I’m not an idiot, which is what I’d have to be to trust you. And stop calling me kid, I’m almost twenty-two!”

 

Bill narrowed his eyes, irritation washing over him. “I’m older than the oldest thing that graces your ridiculous planet,” he informed Dipper with a forced smile. “Older than your galaxy and hundreds of others combined. There ain’t much older than me, _kid_ , which makes you a speck of sand in an infinite desert, and a _boy_.”

 

 _A handsome, ridiculous boy_ , Bill thought to himself, annoyed that the things he felt for Dipper lay coiled in his chest- refusing to dissipate.

 

Dipper seethed at Bill, but slowly a little humorless smile tugged at his lips.

 

“You sounded more like the Bill I’ve always know, just then.”

 

Internally, Bill groaned in exasperation. His plan, so carefully thought out, was now seeming to take a nosedive. He thought for moment about trying to talk more with Dipper, to reason with him, but eventually recognized that not only would he not be believed, but that the more he spoke the less Dipper would hear.

 

Instead, with a wave of his hand, Bill began to show him.

 

* * *

 

Sand was all around them.

 

Bill watched as Dipper squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand, a hot sun beating down on his pale face, his thoughts surprised at the sudden change of scenery.

 

“Where the hell am I?!”

 

Bill smiled, feeling a little sad as he looked around.

 

“Home,” he said simply, and began to walk- his bare feet sinking into soft sand that burned like fire from the heat of the sun. He felt Dipper follow him, felt both his intensified mistrust and his piqued interest.

 

Bill took him into the gates of a city that was built at the base of a great pyramid- one that was larger and more imposing than any that had ever graced the earth that Dipper belonged to. They walked in silence through the streets of sandstone, houses lining either side of them. They walked through the square and the market and the temples, all the while weaving their way through the throngs of people that crowded their path.

 

“I was born from nothingness,” Bill explained as they journeyed through his home, calling over his shoulder to Dipper. “One moment there was darkness, and the next I was gasping for breath. All around me there were people.”

 

Bill glanced back at Dipper, who trailed just behind him, and gave a rueful grin.

 

“They didn’t trust me either, kid,” he said with a little laugh. “They stabbed me and stoned me and set me afire. Then, when none of it worked, they took me as their God.”

 

Bill slowed his pace as the street widened, letting Dipper walk next to him, feeling his disbelief and scrutiny in waves.

 

They had reached a statue, and Bill stopped and looked up at it- knowing that Dipper was doing the same. It was of him, golden and smooth, wearing a toga and a crown of flowers, a crooked smile on his lips. At his feet lay stones and knives and flames.

 

After a moment of inspection he moved on, up the stairs that led to the doors of the pyramid, feeling Dipper's mild shock and confusion before he shook his head and rushed after Bill, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with him.

 

When they reached the halfway point Bill stopped and turned to look out over the landscape of the massive city below. So did Dipper.

 

“It seems… civilized,” Dipper finally commented. Then added, “It looks… it looks like something from our history… like Rome, maybe?”

 

Bill nodded. Down in the city soldiers patrolled in golden breastplates and leather greaves, wicked looking swords of silver and iron at their hips. Politicians walked with purpose in togas of red and black, while the commoners wore them in all sorts of bright shades- purples and greens seeming the most common. Merchants of all sorts lined the markets with carts of spice and fish and bread, carts of fine cloth and durable leather, carts of jewelry and glass blown trinkets, and they called out at passersby to look at their wares in loud, jovial voices. Children in thin cotton shirts that hung past their knees ran laughing in groups- bare feet slapping on smooth stone as they retreated from the cries of adults who yelled caution. Buildings of ivy wrapped stone with roofs of clay shingles lined the streets, and men and women sat at balconies and smiled down at the city- sipping from fine looking teacups and nibbling on rich looking food.

 

“Roman is close,” Bill conceded. “Maybe Greek and Egyptian, too. But...where they might be similar, they also differ. It is its own, there's never been a place like it, and there never will be again.”

 

“Does it have a name?”

 

“Nothing you could pronounce,” Bill answered, tearing his eyes away from his home to look at Dipper. He was watching the scene below him with curious eyes, mouth parted in awe.

 

“Were there slaves?” he asked.

 

Bill shook his head. “Never here. People who wanted to build, built. People who wanted to hunt, hunted. People who wanted to teach, taught. It was the way of things.”

 

“Starvation?”

 

Bill gave a little laugh. “Do they look like they are starving?” he asked, gesturing down at the people below.

 

A little line formed between Dippers brows as he looked for fault in the scene that lay before him.

 

“Sickness? Crime?”

 

Bill sighed. “Sickness is inevitable in all civilizations. But we were an advanced city. Medicine was easily accessed. And we were educated. Crime was near non-existent, and punishments were given fairly.”

 

Dipper gnawed on his bottom lip, determined to see before him a place that was ruled by a monster- a demon.

 

Finally he asked, “War?”

 

Bill sighed once more, and Dipper turned questioning eyes to his own.

 

“There is always war,” Bill responded, then turned and continued up the steps of the pyramid.

 

* * *

 

“Couldn’t you just snap your fingers and take us to the top?” Dipper complained, breath coming in short gasps.

 

Bill watched his chest heave, heard his ragged intake of air, and felt desire stir. Dipper was red cheeked and wet with sweat from the fiery sun. It reminded Bill of late nights- pretending to ignore Dipper as he touched himself- wishing to somehow be the cause of the sounds Dipper would make, this time with hand and mouth and words.

 

Bill pushed all this aside, huffed in feigned annoyance, and made a show of lazily snapping his fingers.

 

They stood before the mammoth sized doors- big enough to house a giant, and Dipper glared.

 

“Seriously?!”

 

Bill laughed, motioning for Dipper to follow him with the crooking of his fingers, leading him into a large hall that held in the center a series of long, pew like benches, all of which faced a dias. On the dias sat an empty throne.

 

Dipper gave Bill a sidelong look.

 

“A _throne_ ?” he snarked, rolling his eyes and thinking quite clearly that _of course_ Bill had a throne.

 

Bill shrugged. “The people insisted.”

 

A soft, disbelieving snort, and Dipper asked, “Where _is_ the Demon King? Off torturing puppies?”

 

Bill felt the impish smile that graced his lips. He knew _precisely_  where he’d be located at this very moment, and he had to stamp down a sudden desire to laugh with glee.

 

Instead he told Dipper, “I can show you _exactly_ where I am.”

 

Dipper has the sense to look cautious, but he still followed.

 

They went through a side door, down a hall, through another door that took them down a narrow flight of stairs, and finally through a short corridor and an open archway. They’d gone to the baths, where pools of hot water steamed the room and made it hard to see. Candles were lit in every nook, and oils of cedar and jasmine scented the air.

 

Bouncing off the echoing walls was soft laughter

 

Caution seemed to rise in Dipper's chest, and Bill could feel it.

 

“What is this?”

 

Bill grinned. “You asked what I was doing,” he replied, voice oozing with exaggerated innocence.

 

“Come and see, Pine Tree.”

 

They walked farther into the warmth of room, Dipper frowning deeply as tittering laughter turned into echoing words.

 

“What are they saying?” he asked with a whisper upon hearing a female voice who was speaking words in a language no one had uttered in trillions of years- the sound more than foreign to Dipper's ears.

 

Bill smirked- did another entirely unnecessary show of snapping his fingers- and suddenly the words slid into english.

 

_“You are utterly wicked.”_

 

_“Am I?”_

 

_“Oh yes. A devil.”_

 

Bill heard the memory of himself chuckle deeply in response. There was a brief flash of triumph in Dipper's eyes as his assessment of Bill seemed to be proven, but then the steam cleared a bit, and the scene before them unfolded.

 

Bill hovered naked over a woman, her brown hair fanned out around her as she lay on the stones beside a pool, one of her hands dipped in the water, the other gripping Bills bicep as he kissed his way down to her bared breasts.

 

 _“You’ve corrupted me,”_ she purred. _“You’ve ruined me for any other. You and your devil's mouth.”_

 

As if in response, the Bill in the memory licked a trail between the valley of her breasts- large hands palming each mound of flesh.

 

Dipper made a strangled sound.

 

“I don’t need to see this!” he exclaimed.

 

On the floor before them, Bill kissed a path low, and now both the woman’s hands clawed at his shoulders, raked through his hair. Memory Bill continued lower.

 

The Bill that was here and now stepped behind Dipper, hands resting lightly on each of his arms as he whispered into his ear, “Feel free to look away, _Mason_.”

 

Dipper shuddered, his breathing suddenly shallow. Memory Bill’s mouth had found its destination, his tongue lapping hard and wet. When she arched her back the memory of Bill gave a helpless growl of need. His hands grabbed hard on the ass of the woman, pulling her up as he maneuvered to his knees, her shoulders the only part of her touching the ground as Bill encouraged her to grind into his face, her legs thrown over his shoulders and her hips gyrating. Dippers thoughts were stunted, only shocked desire coursing through him at the sight of Bill, devouring this woman in the best sort of way.

 

As her moans grew louder, Bill of the present had to keep himself from whispering words of lust to Dipper- if only because he knew that now would be too soon. In fact, this scene was probably too much too soon, but Bill had not been able to help himself.

 

When she came, memory Bill did not stop his ministrations. Instead he laid her flat, fingers entering her and making her shake.

 

 _“I could make this last forever,”_ he told the woman, licking the shell of her ear as he leaned over her, his voice hoarse with desire. _“I could pleasure you and never tire, worship you and never bore.”_

 

She sobbed and writhed, and in his arms Dipper shivered and seemed to snap into reality.

 

Quite suddenly he jerked away from Bill, turning to look angrily up at him.

  
“I want to wake up!”

 

Bill hummed and lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.

 

“We will leave this place,” he assured, steadily ignoring the evidence of lust that currently tented Dipper’s pajama bottoms.

 

“No,” Dipper ground out, “I want TO WAKE UP!”

 

He’d shouted the last bit, and it seemed to do the trick, because suddenly the memory was gone and Dipper was gasping for breath in his own bed, hand clutched to his chest.

 

It could have gone better, Bill thought sourly.

 

* * *

 

Bill let Dipper cool off for the next week, ignoring the irritation that welled up inside him as Dipper furiously ignored him. He conceded that his own irritation was directed mostly at himself.

 

The only time Dipper spoke to Bill was when his thoughts would begin to stray to the memory of the baths. A flash of recollection, usually of Bill’s face buried between the legs of the burnette, and he’d snarl, “Damnit, _fuck you Bill!_ ”

 

When Bill finally did bring him back to to the Midnight Lake, Dipper had yelled himself hoarse.

 

Bill was disgusting, and a liar, and an asshole, and _how dare he._

 

Bill let him yell, let himself be pushed when Dipper was exceptionally frustrated. When he’d seemed to tire of screaming his hatred, Bill finally spoke.

 

“You’re right. That was… wrong.”

 

Dipper glared. “It was.”

 

“I thought it would be… funny. You asked where I was, kid.”

 

Dipper fisted his hands and punctuated through clenched teeth, “It. _Wasn’t_ . _Funny_.”

 

“You’re right, Pine Tree.”

 

They stayed silent for a bit then, and Bill let Dipper work through his emotions. He wanted to see more of Bill’s world, that was a fact. But Dipper was afraid of being subjected to more of Bill’s… _extracurricular activities_. Bill felt the thoughts, heard them plain as day as they ran through Dipper’s mind.

 

He had to hide a smile.

 

Bill could acknowledge that it had been a terrible, asinine idea to take Dipper to the baths. The scene had been embarrassing for Dipper, and certainly it had made him angry, but in the end the real reason Dipper was so furious was because he had _liked_ it.

 

Finally Bill said, “I promise never to show you anything like that again... Unless, of course, you asked me to.”

 

Dipper rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

 

“I don’t trust you,” Dipper snarled, and Bill let himself wear the sad little half smile that came to his lips.

 

“Yeah, I know kid.”

 

“I’ll _never_ trust you.”

 

Bill sighed. “Yeah kid, I get it.”

 

Finally, cautiously, Dipper seemed to relax- if only infinitesimally.

 

“Show me the rest.”

 

Bill’s smile brightened at that, and with a wave of his hand, they were back in the sand and stone of his world.

 

* * *

 

**follow me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/morning-sun-brah)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like it, and I apologize if it's shit. I'll slowly be fixing any of the mistakes I am sure I made. Also, this fandom is so damn sweet and I love every one of you!!
> 
> Please tell me what you think, and hit that kudos button if you enjoyed!


	3. Misses home, Can’t Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me follow you,” he had wailed. “Let me die too!”

~*~

 

**DIPPER**

  


Dipper had promised himself many things through the years. To exercise more, to be more assertive, to put himself “out there.” But of all the things he’d promised, vowing to never trust Bill had been the most abysmal of failures.

 

Dipper should have begun to work on how to keep Bill out of his thoughts right away, once he had realized that Bill was able to show him his past. He should have ignored the demon and his temptations dressed as truths, and instead researched ways to destroy the yellow triangle- which was obviously his true form, and not the dark haired “God” he was currently parading himself as. Dipper quietly convinced himself that Bill must believe that his current form might trick Dipper into trusting him.

 

But Dipper had failed himself. The week after his first encounter with Bill, Dipper had fumed and seethed and, shamefully, wished for more.

 

More knowledge of Bill’s home.

 

More insight into Bill's past.

 

Dipper had tried to immediately push away the images that Bill had conjured- but it was useless. The city by the pyramid and the alleged God it housed rarely left his thoughts. Dipper was angry with Bill, to be sure. He had in no way wanted to see what Bill had shown him in the baths (and that lie was directed to both himself and the demon who heard his every thought). Dipper was unsure why Bill would _even show him_ such a thing.

 

But the rest of it?

 

Bill’s past, whether it was real or not, was something that Dipper now thirsted for.

 

Bill may have of only shown him a small part of this world that was surely contrived, but it had been enough that Dipper knew he was damned. He had always thirsted for knowledge, had always felt the need to learn more than was provided. This was an opportunity to do just that. Even if it was a lie, surely there must be some semblance of truth muddled in it all. Dipper told himself that, maybe, possibly, there would be a way to destroy Bill hidden in these images.

 

Dipper held onto that last thought and used it to assure himself that, yes, this was the real reason he allowed Bill to continue to speak with him, the real reason he allowed himself to be shown Bill’s so called memories. He would take the knowledge being fed to him and use it against the dream demon who was so clearly up to nefarious deeds.

 

Dipper tried very hard to convince himself of this lie- ignoring the truth, which was simply that he was curious.

 

So Dipper agreed to let Bill show him. Show him this past world with its history so vibrant and vivid that he could literally reach down and feel the sand between his fingers, feel the heat of a sun that was much closer than the one his own earth circled, smell the baking of soft looking breads in the market that made his stomach rumble with hunger.

 

To begin, Bill spent weeks walking Dipper through the terrain of his land without showing him any sort of his own past- his former self absent from the picture he weaved. Instead he strode next to Dipper with their shoulders nearly touching, his black hair almost blue here in the sun, his golden skin somehow seeming to glow and match the desert that surrounded them.

 

Bill took him to the edge of a jungle that he said was a day's ride north of the pyramid, walking him through the humid trees and pointing out parrot-like birds with red breasts and silver tipped wings. There in the jungle Bill explained that his people would come here to hunt, but that they farmed near the ocean- where the wild cats and packs of wolves did not venture.

 

He took him to said ocean after that, south west of the pyramid and a weeks ride on the main road by cart and horse. Dipper was surprised to see that it looked like any other ocean, but couldn’t help his yelp of shock when he saw what the fishermen were pulling from the water- sea creatures with wide mouths full of teeth and black eyes that reminded him of a sharks.

 

“Earth's oceans are much nicer,” Bill had said with a laugh. “I don’t believe I ever saw a whale or dolphin here- or anything that wouldn't have tried to kill me on sight, for that matter. The sea was teeming with death, retired soldiers often became fishermen.”

 

“Why?”

 

Bill nodded at a particularly large creature being loaded onto a cart that reminded Dipper vaguely of both a swordfish and an alligator, and seemed to be made entirely of sharp teeth and leathery scales.

 

“To continue to fight,” Bill explained with an amused smile.

 

Dipper was not fond of this ocean.

 

Bill took him everywhere, it seemed. To the river that was south, and the oasis it ran into- teeming with fruit trees and home to hundreds of wild horses. To the sand dunes in the west that spread over an empty desert that stretched as large as the ocean, and that Bill told him eventually turned to mountains with snowy caps.

 

But of all the places he might show Dipper, it was obvious that the market was his favorite. It was there that they always seemed to end up, with Bill pointing out favorite vendors, or dragging him up the steps of the pyramid to watch a sunset that spread across the sky with pinks and reds and purples more vibrant than any Dipper had ever seen, the city below them coming alight in the night with paper lanterns and lively music. Dipper came to the slow realization that Bill was showing off this place that he looked on with reverence, as though he were a proud parent and this land was his child.

 

Bill seemed to be always laughing, always smiling, always happy. The wide, crooked smile looked as though it forever belonged there on his handsome face, and Dipper wouldn’t even realize until the next morning that he’d smiled and laughed back. That he had joked with Bill, had asked him questions and received immediate answered. That he had _enjoyed_ spending time with Bill. It was hard for Dipper to keep himself from liking Bill here, what with the demons enthusiasm for this place and his excitement to show it off.

 

“Show me your past,” he told Bill firmly one night. “You said that was what you were going to do, so do it. Unless it’s terrible and you and don’t want me to see the awful things you did.”

 

He’d almost felt bad, seeing Bill's face drop and look suddenly melancholy.

 

“You’re right about one thing,” Bill had said with a tired sigh. “It’s terrible.”

 

* * *

 

Bill showed Dipper his birth.

 

It was just as Bill had said, he had suddenly just _been_. Dipper watched the dark haired man collapse naked on a small street, gasping for breath and causing the people who had been milling about to startle, whatever reverie they had been experiencing forever shattered.

 

Around them, Dipper saw that the city he stood in was no more than an outcropping of leaning shacks made of driftwood- the pyramid missing completely. It was small and sad looking, and the people who crowded around Bill looked malnourished and frightened and miserable.  

 

As the past Bill gasped for air- taking great lungfuls and clawing at his chest- the people surrounding him began to panic.

 

A woman screamed, a child began to cry, and many of the townspeople ran into their shacks- the sound of them barring the door evident. A stocky man with wide shoulders and hair just as dark as Bill’s stood near the memory of Bill, eyes wide as the new God tried to stand -reaching out and grabbing the man's hand in clear desperation. The man’s eyes widened, and from his hip he took a knife and plunged it into Bill’s heart.

 

Dipper gasped in surprise. There was a chuckle, and next to him the Bill of the present caught his eye.

 

“Don’t judge them too harshly,” he said. “They were frightened.”

 

Dipper watched with eyes as large as saucers as Bill folded his arms and stared- not at his former self, who was flailing about in pain on the ground, but at the man who had stabbed him.

 

Turning his attention back to the memory, Dipper watched with a cringe as Bill of the past was stabbed by other townspeople as they shouldered aside the man who had first acted. Dipper watched as the people picked up rocks and threw them, as they lit a hasty pyre and burned him at a stake. Dipper watched as Bill screamed and cried out in pain, but never died, never succumbed to his injuries. Instead, he healed each time. The fire burnt out, and the people gasped as Bill, curled in on himself and sobbing, healed and mended, his bones popping back into place, his limbs reforming, his skin turning from charred to golden once more.

 

It was the stocky man- the one who had stabbed Bill- who intervened. He stepped out in front of the crowd and held out his hands, shielding Bill.

 

“Stop!”

 

At his feet, Bill whimpered.

 

The man turned and reached out a hand, but the frightened man at his feet only raised his arms to shield his face, body curling up even more- his knees pressing into his own chest.

 

Undeterred, the man bent down and lifted Bill, cradling him in his arms and turning to his people.

 

“Don’t you see?” he asked them, eyes pleading. “He is a God.”

 

The people shuffled and murmured, but, one by one, they bowed.

 

* * *

 

For a while Bill’s life was spent in the small hut of the stocky man who identified himself as Ravi (though, Dipper suspected this may be a shortening of his actual name, as Bill told him that all the true words being spoken were hard to pronounce, in a language that Dipper’s own world had never heard).

 

At first the past Bill was frightened, and Ravi looked wracked with guilt. He bid him to dress in a brown tunic and soft deerskin greeves, and had led him to a pallet stuffed with sheep's wool and covered him in a thin blanket, setting beside him a cup of water and a bowl of grain and backing out of the small room slowly.

 

Dipper watched as he was shown their slow friendship, Bill and Ravi's. How the frightened Bill had slowly come to trust the man who had hurt him. They shared food and drink, and eventually Ravi taught Bill the language of his people- something that Bill picked up on more quickly than any human might. They spoke tentatively with each other, Bill halfway skittish and Ravi always looking guilt laden.

 

Eventually, Bill followed Ravi out into the town, where the people all bowed and reached out to touch him and cried their apologies. He helped Ravi hunt, helped him lay traps for small rabbits and lizards, helped him reinforce his small hut of a home with sturdier planks of wood. He traveled with Ravi to the Oasis, where they swam and caught little silver fish in handwoven nets, and watched herds of horses gallop across the sand. Bill followed Ravi to the Jungle, where they gathered red and yellow feathers that had fallen to the ground from the birds nested in the trees, and made arrows with the jungle wood that surrounded them.

 

All the while Bill of the past watched Ravi with ever-growing trust. Whenever he thought the man wasn't looking, Dipper noticed that Bill's eyes would travel up strong legs to stare at powerful arms as they completed one task or another. Bill’s head would tilt as he watched Ravi explain how to tie a rope properly, or how to shape clay into a bowl, or how to identify certain cacti between poisonous and edible, and his eyes seemed to light with interest.

 

It didn't take long for Dipper to look over at Bill, who stayed silent and watched his past with a small smile on his face, and say, “You were in _love_ with him,” with sudden realization.

 

Bill gave Dipper a crooked little smile, looking down at him as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“Of _course_ I was in love with him.”

 

* * *

 

“We are escaped slaves,” Ravi told Bill one day, as they stood in the hot sun and helped build sturdier homes for the people around them.

 

“What is a Slave?”

 

“Property,” Ravi explained. “Far across the desert, past the mountains and the forests and the rivers, that is where my people come from. We helped build great cities and roads, but not because we wanted to. We built them because we were told to, and because we would be killed if we did not. Our families would be murdered or tortured. We would receive no food from the Master's and go hungry for weeks. I was a slave, and so was my father, and his father, and his father too.”

 

Bill had flushed in anger.

 

“Where are these people?!” He'd asked with venom, slamming down the wood he been holding and fisting his hands in anger.

 

Ravi had laughed a little at his outburst and shook his head. “They followed us for a while,” he said. “But we are far away now, and eventually they went home to their other slaves. We are only forty, back in the city there are hundreds of slaves- thousands, even.”

 

Ravi stopped his hammering to pull down his shirt and expose a triangle that was branded near his collarbone. Bill had leaned in to inspect the mark, hand reaching to ghost fingers over the raised skin.

 

“It is the mark of a Slave,” Ravi said. “All of us have one, except the children who were born here, away from the Masters.”

 

Bills hawkish eyes had narrowed and met Ravi's. “I will kill whoever did this to you,” he had snarled.

 

Ravi blushed and stepped away from the young God.

 

“It was not just me,” he mumbled. “It was all of us.” Ravi waved an arm to indicate the town around them. “We all escaped from something horrible. It is better now.”

 

Ravi stood there awkwardly, hands tracing over the branded triangle and feet shuffling in the sandy street. Then he picked up a wooden beam and began to hammer once more. “I say this to you because... Because I want you to know that we were scared when we saw you. We are a people who have suffered.”

 

Ravi hesitated and stopped hammering to look at Bill once more, who was looking at Ravi open-mouthed, a lost look painted on his face.

 

“I am sorry for what we did to you,” Ravi whispered.

 

Dipper watched as the young God shook his head and reached out to grab Ravi’s wrist.

 

“Please don't apologize!” Bill all but pled. “Please don't ever apologize again!”

 

Ravi was looking down at Bill's hand clutched on his wrist, his cheeks a bright pink. He gave the young God a shy little smile and nodded.

 

The memory shifted to weeks later, as the two traveled to the Oasis. Ravi looked nervous as he pulled Bill into the shade of a large tree with pink and white blossoms.

 

“What's wrong?”  Bill had asked, and Ravi had rubbed his neck as his nerves seem to build. He pulled from his waist a knife- the same one he had used to stab Bill when the God had first appeared.

 

Bill had stepped back, fear morphing his features. “What are you doing?!”

 

Ravi offered Bill the knife.

 

“Humans are not like you,” he told Bill softly. “We are weak.”

 

Bill’s brows knit. “You are the strongest person I know,” he assured the man in a hushed voice.

 

Ravi gave him a sad little smile. “If you were to stab me,” he began, “I would die. If you were to plunge this into my heart, as I did to you, I would meet my death.”

 

Ignoring the knife that Ravi offered him, Bill bit his lip before asking, “What is death?”

 

Ravi tilted his head and gave sad a little sigh.

 

“It is the opposite of life. It is darkness instead of light. If you were to take this knife and drive it through my heart, I would be no more. My soul would flee, and I would never gaze at your face again.”

 

Bill took another step back. “Why would I do that?” He whispered.

 

“Because I hurt you,” Ravi lamented. “I deserve death for the pain that I caused you. If you cannot forgive me, please take this knife and end me, as I once tried to end you. I do not wish to live if you bear me any ill will.”

 

Bill stood there in the shade of the tree with wide eyes staring between the knife and the face of the man holding it in near panic. Eventually, to Dippers astonishment, Bill reached out and took the knife from Ravi's hands.

 

Ravi's eyes closed, as though he had prepared himself for this eventuality, and he stood straight as he waited for the blade to crash down into his flesh.

 

But it did not come. Instead, Bill tossed it across the sand as though it were offensive and pulled Ravi to him.

 

“You're _never_ allowed to leave me,” he told him heatedly. “You are _never_ allowed to die.”

 

Ravi opened his eyes and reached up to cradled Bill's face in his large hands.

 

“You are a God and so you cannot age or die,” he said sadly. “I am a human. I will grow old, if I am lucky, and I will leave you one day.”

 

The young God shook his head and held Ravi even closer than before.

 

“I forbid it,” he said with vehemence, and Ravi laughed.

 

“Put your lips to mine, and I will teach you a new lesson,” Ravi murmured, pulling Bills face closer to his own.

 

Bills fingers dug into the man's shoulders.

 

“What sort of lesson?”

 

Just before their lips met Ravi said, “Of love.”

 

* * *

 

By now, Dipper had spent every night of an entire month watching Bill’s memories, riveted to the story he was being told, invested in the life of Bill and his lover as though they were cherished characters in one of his favorite novels.

 

As Dipper prepared himself for bed one night, he asked, “Did you find a way to keep Ravi immortal?”

 

He was greeted with silence.

 

“... Bill?”

 

“No, Pine Tree. I didn’t.”

 

That night, Dipper watched as Ravi grew old. He watched as Bill stayed young and beautiful and strong, and as Ravi greyed and hunched and withered. He watched as Bill continued to love him, as Bill carried him to bed when Ravi’s knees were too weak to carry himself, as Bill pet and caressed and kissed the man with the same steadfast reverence as always.

 

Dipper watched as Bill held Ravi, crying into his shoulder as the man whispered a last “I love you,” and then faded into death.

 

Dipper woke the next morning with wet cheeks.

 

* * *

 

It made Dipper's chest ache, watching the next night as the young God fell to his knees in the streets of the small city and, sobbing as he did so, erected the mammoth pyramid. It was the first time Dipper had seen Bill use magic on purpose. The people of the town stepped into the street to watch- their faces slack with shock as the enormous pyramid had come from the ground as though being pulled up from the depths with an invisible chain. All around Bill had been a swirling of unseen power and the smell of ozone.

 

When it was done, Bill had carried Ravi’s body into the triangular superstructure and lain him in the empty tombs under it, curling beside him on the slab and begging for death.

 

“Let me follow you,” he had wailed. “Let me die too!”

 

Dipper looked over to Bill- the one of the present- and said in a voice that cracked with emotion, “ _Why_ did you show me this?!”

 

Bill, seeming to have to force his gaze away from the frail body of Ravi, looked at Dipper with watery eyes.

 

“What kid? Is this not the behaviour of a monster?” He asked. “Are these not the actions of a demon?”

 

Dipper looked at the scene before him, and then scrubbed away the tears from his face.

 

He did not reply, but the answer was clear.

 

It was not.

* * *

 

_“Why a pyramid?”_

 

Dipper thought the question to Bill the next day as he sipped his coffee and walked to his physics class.

 

***The brand, kid. Ravi had that triangle forced on him… I wanted to turn it into something else. … Something good.***

 

Dippers pace slowed to a leisure stroll, uncaring if he was late for class.

 

_“Did you ever fall in love again?”_

 

Bill gave a miserable little laugh and seemed to nod.

 

***Three more times***

 

Dipper blanched.

 

_“Three more times?! Jesus Bill, what the hell?!”_

 

***I lived there in that city for nearly a thousand years, Pine Tree. How many time could you fall in love in just one of your lifetimes?”**

 

Dipper flushed and nodded. _“Point taken. Just … Do I have to watch all your loved ones die? It’s super depressing.”_

 

***Oh? Is the death of loved ones not usually depressing for you?”**

 

Dipper flinched. _“Sorry. That was… insensitive.”_

 

Bill snorted. * **Sure was! But no, kid. I won’t make you watch the rest of them die. I don’t think I can stomach it myself. Not again.***

 

His voice had grown soft and morose as he spoke, and Dipper felt his heart grow heavy.

 

 ***Don’t get all depressed on me Pine Tree,*** Bill grumbled. * **No use in both of us feeling like shit.***

 

* * *

 

The slavers came.

 

The pyramid had acted as a beacon, and like moths to a light they had come to see the small city of escaped slaves, and the God they worshiped.

 

It had been Bill’s first fight.

 

“I was glad they came,” he told Dipper, watching with him as his past self stood before an army of sixty men on horse back- the leader of whom demanded that their slaves and the children they had sired since their escape be returned to them.

 

The young God had warned the men off, had told them to go back to their land and never return.

 

The Masters had laughed.

 

Bill had slayed them all. He’d pulled the leader from his horse and crushed his skull with his bare hands- screaming in fury as he did so, and when the rest of the shocked soldiers had gathered their wits and broken over him like waves crashing on the shore, Bill had closed his eyes, spread his arms, and sighed.

 

They’d all fallen from their horses, unmoving.

 

Dipper looked out over the sea of bodies in shock.

 

Bill had stood before a small army and had not even unsheathed the sword he wore at his hip.

 

“Holy. Shit.”

 

Next to him, Bill cackled with glee. “Stupid meat bag slavers!” he exclaimed. “That’s what they get!”

 

Dipper looked at the man next to him with raised brows.

 

“What?!” Bill asked incredulously. “They owned _people,_ Pine Tree.”

 

Dipper, to his own mild horror, found that he not-so-privately agreed, but he refused to say it out loud.

 

* * *

 

Dipper graduated that year, Bill giving him a little cheer as he collected his diploma in Geophysics. Just a day later both he and Mabel had traveled to Gravity Falls, Mabel’s windows down as the two of them sang throwback bubblegum pop at the top of their lungs- Bill occasionally grousing as the cords of numerous boy band anthems would begin to play.

 

It only took five minutes after reaching the Shack for Ford to pull Dipper aside to ask how he was, if the demon had tried to contact him, and if there was anything Bill-related that he needed to report.

 

He’d responded that he was fine, that he’d had no contact with Bill, and no, there was nothing to report.

 

***Liar!***

 

 _“N-not really. I_ _am_ _doing fine!”_

 

Bill had chuckled and kept infuriatingly silent.

 

Later that night, Dipper had quietly slipped out the front door and walked through a narrow path in the woods, starlight and moonlight easily giving him enough visibility to navigate himself to where he wanted to go.

 

The lake almost looked just the way it did in his memory with Bill. The air was calm, and all around him were the sounds of the forest- chirruping crickets and rustling trees and far off songs of whippoorwills as they settled in for the night. The water that spread out before Dipper was calm- only an occasional ripple caused by a frog leaping into the water.

 

Dipper reached out and touched a cattail, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He hadn’t really known why he’d wanted to come here, and he refused to examine the action further.

 

Bill said nothing as Dipper lay down on the soft grass, shooing away a mosquito and settling himself into a comfortable position. He gazed at the stars for long minutes before closing his eyes. After only a short amount of time, he was lulled into sleep.

 

“Dipper, what if a bear comes along and eats you?” Bill teased.

 

The dark haired God lay next to him, the memory they occupied not of Bill’s homeland- but of the lake Dipper was currently sleeping next to. Bill’s hands were behind his head, his elbows jutting out like wings. Dipper rolled his eyes and grinnned.

 

“There are scarier things in Gravity Falls than bears.”

 

“A pterodactyl, then.”

 

Dipper laughed, and for once he let himself take some time and actually study Bill’s face. Dark blue eyes that shined in the starlight, golden skin and arms corded with muscle.

 

Thick black hair, arched brows, large capable hands.

 

Dipper felt his cheeks begin to burn, and averted his eyes.

 

They didn’t say anything more, just lay there, looking up at the stars. At one point their hands brushed, and when neither of them pulled away they were left there- fingers just barely touching. When Dipper woke- back aching and arms cold, he picked his way through the dark back to the Shack.

 

He didn’t ever bring up the lake after that, and Bill was kind enough not to mention it.

 

* * *

 

About a week into his stay at the Mystery Shack, Bill showed Dipper his journey on horseback across the desert, over the mountains and the forests and the rivers- all as Ravi had described- to the great city that his lover and his people had fled from. The city was more of a fortress, with walls so high only a spire could be seen above them. Bill had entered it easily though, slipping past the gate and looking at the city the spread before him with calculating eyes.

 

Dipper might liken it to a medieval setting- it was all grey stone and romantic looking turrets and soldiers in chain mail. There was a clear divide in classes though, even at just a passing glance. There were wealthy citizens, garbed in silken robes and dresses of lace, but the poor wore rags and begged for food in the streets. And then there were the slaves- shackled in iron, feet bloody as they were led through the streets to their next back breaking task.

 

Dipper had mirrored the anger that was evident in the past Bill’s face, and just as Bill had cheered at Dipper collecting his degree, so Dipper had cheered as Bill freed the city and cut down all who opposed him with his wicked looking [sword](http://www.zbrushcentral.com/showthread.php?163854-300-spartan-sword). 

 

“Happy to see me murder, Pine Tree?” Bill quipped with a grin.

 

Dipper had shrugged. “They own _people,_ Bill.”

 

Bill had positively beamed at him.

 

* * *

 

The rest of Dipper’s summer was spent exploring the woods with Ford during the day, and stepping into the past with Bill at night.

 

Years, a hundred of them, had sped by in the span of a few weeks. Bill helped build the city. He worked alongside his people as they plotted out the training yards where they all learned to fight. He used magic to lift heavy slabs of white onyx that became the floors of great pillared libraries- which slowly filled with books, some brought from the ruined slave city, others purchased from great ships that carried wares from across the sea. Bill helped break and tame wild horses for riding, helped lay stone for roads, helped pull fish from the sea, helped sand wood for long boats.

 

Around them, the city grew.

 

Slaves fled to the safe haven, and each one that arrived spoke to Bill of where they had come from. Bill would listen, coaxing out every detail of their enslavement and previous location before he rode out and freed the remaining slaves from their shackles- no matter how far away they were. He’d even sailed across the sea once, with great hulking monsters of fin and scale knocking at the side of his small boat, just to liberate a small tribe of people and bring them back to his city.

 

“Here’s where I fall in love again, kid.”

 

Dipper watched Bill sail back, this time in a large ship he’d procured from his defeated enemies. He seemed on edge, throwing sidelong looks at the group of liberated slaves he brought with him, and it took Dipper a while to realize that the God’s cautious glances were meant for a woman. She was young and pale, with pretty bow lips and long blonde hair.

 

When they returned to the city, Bill had asked her to take a job in the pyramid, and she had blushingly agreed.

 

It wasn’t hard to fill in the dots of what had happened after that. One moment he was watching the two of them awkwardly flirt, and the next they were holding hands and strolling through the market, much like Bill and Dipper had done with he’d first began showing Dipper his memories of this place (sans the hand holding).  

 

Dipper ignored the small sting of jealousy at that realization.

 

Instead Dipper had asked Bill, “Are you wearing a _snake_ on your arm?”

 

He had been, the little brown viper curled around his bicep and watching every interaction with a flicking tongue.

 

Present Bill had shrugged. “I had many animal familiars. Usually a horse. Sometimes snakes. Once it was a funny little tree monkey.”

 

Dipper had rolled his eyes and ignored the kiss that past Bill and the blonde were sharing in the market, under the shade of a bright awning, both their faces alight with happiness.

 

“Her name was Eshe, and she lived trillions of years ago, kid.”

 

Dipper looked at Bill in confusion.

 

“What?”

 

Bill smirked.

 

“No need to be jealous, Pine Tree.”

 

* * *

 

One night, Bill showed Dipper his children.

 

They had been following the memory Bill, whose hair had grown long for the time being, and who walked with a group of children down the path that led to the oasis. Three of the children were black of hair and gold skinned, and they ran in happy circles around the laughing God.

 

“They look like they could be related to you,” Dipper had commented.

 

Bill turned and gave Dipper a sidelong look, raising a disbelieving brow. “They _are_ , kid.”

 

Dipper had blanched, watching as Bill of the past leaned down to scoop up a the smallest of his children- a girl with round cheeks and pudgy little fingers that gripped the God’s raven hair.

 

“Wha...What happened to them?!”

 

Bill frowned.

 

“Same as always kid. They lived, they died, and I was left to carry their bodies, and the bodies of their children, down into the tombs to lay with their mother and Ravi.”

 

Dipper hadn’t been able to think of a single comforting thing to say, and had only been able to reach out a hand and squeeze Bill’s own. Bill had looked at him in surprise, then given him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before pulling his hand away.

 

Beyond them, the God and his children laughed.

 

* * *

 

“You talk in your sleep Bro-Bro.”

 

Dipper choked on his coffee and used his sleeve to wipe the liquid from his chin.

 

Across the table from him, Mabel raised her brows. They sat together at the small kitchen table, alone for the time being.

 

“Wh-what do I say?!”

 

Mabel stared at him for a long moment, as though trying to decide how she wanted to respond, before hesitantly declaring, “You say _Bill_ a lot.”

 

In his mind, Bill cackled with delight.

 

“I-I-I do?!” Dipper stuttered.

 

Mabel seemed to sense his hedging behavior, because her eyes narrowed.

 

“Yeah,” she said firmly. “You do.”

 

They’d stared at each other then, Dipper feeling like a deer caught in headlights and steadfastly ignoring the wheezing gasps of laughter that came from the _stupid_ dream God in his head.

 

* **Oh? A Dream** **_God_ ** **? Not a Dream** **_Demon, Pine Tree_ ** **?***

 

Dipper scowled.

 

There may have been more conversation between he and Mabel if Ford and Stan had not entered the kitchen. But they had, Stan grousing and Ford humming a happy tune, and Dipper had hurried out into the woods to be by himself.

 

“Fucking Dream Demon,” he’d huffed in annoyance.

 

But Bill had seemed to shout, * **Dream** **_God_ ** **, Pines!***

 

* * *

 

Later, with his feet dipped into the water of a nearby creek, Dipper asked, “What happened to you Bill?”

 

It was a question he’d been afraid to articulate for some time now.

 

“How did you go from… from God, to… you know…”

 

* **Triangular Demon?*** Bill supplied.

 

Dipper nodded and picked at the grass under his fingers.

 

“Yeah… how?”

 

Bill sighed. ***We’re gettin’ to it kid.***

 

“And it’s terrible?” Dipper asked, voice sounding small to his own ears.

 

Bill seemed to nod.

 

***Yeah kid. Terrible.***

 

* * *

 

 

Follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/morning-sun-brah)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errors will be fixed as I find them. If you are so inclined please kudos this story. Or, give a comment down below if you enjoyed this, they make me so happy and give me itchy fingers!! Also, this fic has been upped to 5 chapters, hooray!


	4. Come in Threes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I remember dreaming of her white stag and knowing she was coming for me. I don’t know how exactly I knew, but I could feel it in every part of my being that she would be my downfall. It was almost as though it was destined to be my fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many excuses as to why this took a million years to update (one of which I'm feeding now as I write this), but honestly it doesn't matter. All I can do is apologize for the delay and hope to do better.

**BILL**

 

Bill knew it wouldn't be easy, watching his past. He had thought though, that he'd sufficiently prepared himself. He'd believed that he had been through enough in his life that he could let the pain roll off his shoulders, let all the terrible loss he had suffered be viewed with clinical detachment. After all- it had been a trillion years since he’d been the God King.

He had been wrong.

Bill tried to keep the hurt off his face with each memory he watched. He imagined that he’d done a pretty good job of it, too. Sure, watching Ravi die had wounded him- but the rest of it? The rest of it he’d been able to successfully view with a straight face and a set jaw, even though it was like pouring salt on the open wound he knew was his own soul.

Until he’d seen his children.

It had been such a long time ago, but his heart hurt watching them run circles around him, watching them laugh and play and live.

He had sent Dipper away early that night, had let him sleep without memory so that he could be alone. Of all the things that had hurt Bill, watching his children die had been the worst. He had hoped, back then, that they would be like him and live for eternity. That they would stay young and healthy and strong.

That they would be Gods.

When Bill had realized that they were mortals, that they would die as all the rest of his loved ones had, he’d had no more children, had refused to see any more sweet faces that looked so much as his own grow old and leave him. Watching his children die had been worse than Ravi, worse than Eshe, worse than Galen after them. Watching his children die had been soul shattering.

While Dipper had slept, Bill had finished the memory of them playing in the sun, and had wept.

* * *

Bill was glad not to see his second lover and their children die in his memories, but even while showing Dipper other things he would catch them or their descendents from the corner of his eye. Little black haired grandchildren or golden skinned great-grandchildren always seeming present in his peripheral. He knew Dipper noticed them, but the other man was kind enough to avoid questions concerning their heritage.

As time had worn on after Eshe’s death, Bill of the past had grown more cynical, more sarcastic and blunt and flippant. He’d been reckless and hot tempered and- more than naught- drunk. Dipper had watched his antics (wildly flirting with every pretty face, throwing himself into the ocean to grapple with beasts, drinking down mug after mug of sweet ale as though he had an unquenchable thirst) and has commented with an amused little smile and a raised brow.

At first, Bill had hedged. He’d laughed and shrugged and said that the life of a God was a boring one if you didn’t make your own adventures. But when two hundred years went by and Bill had grown even more careless than before, Dipper had asked again- this time less amused and more concerned.

Bill had tried to sound nonchalant as he explained, “Everything I loved died, kid. It was easier this way. Drunk and reckless.”

Bill had felt the pang of sadness that struck Dipper’s chest.

“Did you want to die too?” he’d asked.

Bill had watched as his past self stumbled about before them, trying to decide if Dipper would believe any lie he might tell.

He decided for truth.

“I wished for death every day, Pine Tree.”

Dipper frowned over at him, and Bill gave him what was meant to be a reassuring little half smile- but ended up just looking sad.

“I snapped out of it… a little. I stopped drinking so much. Payed attention to the politics that were going on around me. But… Galen, more than anyone, brought me back.”

“Galen?”

Bill sighed, a defeated slump sagging his shoulders. What was to come was inevitable, and Bill had known from the start that he’d have to show Dipper all that had happened if he wanted him to truly understand. Bill didn’t have to like it though, and with dread in his soul, began to show him.

 

* * *

 

 

**DIPPER**

 

Dipper had watched the God in Bill's memories, and had felt overwhelmed with sadness. Dipper wasn’t stupid, he knew- even from the barest of glances- that Bill of the past had been a wreck, a walking nightmare of depression and unhappiness. The time between losing Eshe and meeting Galen was just over seven hundred years.

Seven hundred years of Bill being an absolute miscreant. Of drinking to lessen pain, of whoring to dull his memories, of fighting to tempt death. Bill had been aimless, and while his city had thrived- his people still noticed. They looked on their God with pity, something Dipper also didn’t miss in these memories. Their eyes would cast to him, and he’d see the looks of sadness, hear their whispers of sorrow.

It had seemed Bill of the past had noticed this too (with great affront and embarrassment), and had straightened himself up- if only for show. The last two or so hundred years Bill had shown Dipper how he’d changed, or tried to, anyway. He’d stopped stumbling through the market midday and had kept his drinking to his own chambers in the cover of darkness. He’d replaced his many wine stained tunics with togas of pristine white, as though this were physical proof of his abstinence from drink, and he had held court with at least a small semblance of attentiveness. He’d even been less obvious in his whoring, too. Where before Dipper seemed to be constantly catching Bill leading off a giggling servant girl or brazenly whispering god only knew what to a well muscled soldier, it seemed that now these snippets came less and less, and then none all together. It was as though Bill had abstained from sex, and when Dipper had thought this to himself the God beside him had smirked, but had not provided an answer.

And then, Galen came.

Bill had been walking the market with advisors when the dark skinned man was brought to him in chains.

Bill of the past had startled.

“Why is this man shackled,” he had exclaimed, taking in the man's disheveled appearance and bloodied nose, and the guards before him shifted uneasily at the anger in their God's voice.

Next to Bill stood an older man (who Bill identified as an advisor named Aric) in a black toga that signified his position as advisor. Aric might have had hair of grey and hands wrinkled with time, but he was undeniably a descendant of Bill’s, for he had the same golden skin and dark blue eyes as the god beside him.

Aric had stepped forward and reached down to a golden chain that the shackled man wore around his neck, a finely designed spiral of melted gold that almost looked like the sun.

“This is the mark of a slaver,” the old advisor explained to Bill, tapping the necklace.

It was like watching a storm pass over the God’s face, and he snarled for the man to be taken to the dungeon and shackled even more tightly.

Galen had glared and worked his jaw in anger, but had said nothing as he was dragged away.

The memory shifted, and Dipper watched as Galen was interrogated by a furious Bill, who demanded to know why a slaver would be so stupid as to come to his city- where only the free resided. It was Dipper’s first time seeing the dungeons- a space so small and clean and empty that Dipper was sure it was hardly ever used. It wasn’t underground, as Dipper has assumed it would be, but nearly at the highest point of the pyramid- thin horizontal slats acting as windows, which were only big enough to wiggle two fingers between, and showed a blue sky and a far drop.

Bill had gained no information from Galen during his one sided interrogations- who had sat chained on the floor and said not a word. It had gone on like this for days- Bill bringing the man water and bread and yelling himself hoarse, but the man saying nothing, his jaw squared in defiance.

On the fourth day, Bill brought his advisor, Aric, with him.

“He refuses to speak,” Bill huffed, flicking an annoyed wrist in the direction of the imprisoned man.

Beside him, Aric smirked.

“And in what language have you been speaking?”

Bill had raised his brows in surprise, lips opening and closing without sound.

Aric had chuckled and taken over questioning the man, crouching down so that he was eye level and speaking words in such a way that Dipper knew they had never been uttered on his earth before, and that only he would ever hear them. Next to him Bill of the present had snapped his fingers, and the words had shifted to English again.

“Our lord wishes to know why you are here.”

Galen had looked cautiously at Aric, then answered, “There was nowhere else to go.”

Bill had looked excited hearing the man speak and tugged at Aric’s shoulder.

“What did he say?!”

“Patience,” Aric had directed to the God, then had turned his attention back to the slaver.

“What is your name?”

“Galen.”

“And why would a slaver leave his home, Galen?”

The dark skinned mans face distorted in revulsion.

“I am not a slaver,” Galen hissed.

“I’m afraid your pendant tells a different story,” Aric said with a sigh, reaching out and tapping the gold chain and disk still securely placed around Galen's neck.

Galen glanced down at the molten gold, face incredulous.

“I stole it,” he informed, and his expression was one of disbelief, as though the realization that he’d been mistaken for a salver was both shocking and preposterous.

“From your master?” Aric asked, and Galen looked so afronted he actually spit at the mans feet.

“I am no slave, either!”

Behind the two men, Bill anxiously tapped on his advisors shoulder.

“What is he saying?!”

The old man sighed and turned to look at his God.

“You’re an impatient thing- I’m glad I did not inherit that particular trait.”

Bill rolled his eyes, and Aric, as though defeated, replied, “He says he is not a slaver, nor a slave, but that he stole the necklace.”

The God sneered, but Dipper did not miss the momentary wave of shock and misgiving that clouded his face.

“You said he was a slaver!”

Aric pursed his lips and replied, “I said no such thing. I told you only that he was wearing the mark of a slaver.”

Bill glared. “How convenient for you to take no responsibility.”

Aric only smirked and turned back to the prisoner.

“Galen,” he began. “How are we to know if you tell the truth? Why have you left your people and stolen the Golden Sun of a slaver?”

For a long while it seemed as though Galen would not answer, and behind Aric Bill paced and muttered in impatience.

When Galen finally began to tell his story Aric repeated it in translation to Bill (and since Dipper heard both in english it was presented to him as an odd echo of identical information).

“He says that he was a Warrior Elite for the Kingdom Of the Golden Suns,” Aric relayed, Bill listening in rapt attention. “He says that he killed many men in the name of his country, and no warrior ever has or will match his strength.”

Galen seemed to be saying this just to irritate Bill, and it worked- for the God had bristled and snorted in annoyance.

Aric continued, “He says that after many successful campaigns, The Golden Suns were well known throughout the land as mighty and proud warriors. He says that this is why he believes she came”

“Who is she?” Bill asked, but both Aric and Galen ignored the God- Aric continuing to translate without acknowledging him.

“He says that one morning a lone woman rode into the city on an enormous white stag. She was beautiful, her skin as pale as the stars and her hair red like fire. The King of the Golden Suns met her at the steps of the palace, and there she requested his surrender.”

Bill’s brows arched high.

“Galen says that his King laughed, and demanded she submit to him and become his mistress,” Aric continued, his voice slow as he became more and more immersed in the story Galen weaved. “He says that the woman only smiled and told him he had three days. He and his men tried to detain her on his King’s orders, but she vanished between their fingers like smoke.”

Galen took a moment to compose himself then, looking angry and hurt.

“He was sent alone to try and track her, all other men were ordered to amass at the gates of the city.”

“His King took the threat seriously?” Bill asked in surprise, and this time Aric relayed the question.

“Galen says that once she disappeared into thin air, his King believed she may pose a real threat. He believed… he believed she was a God.”

Bill paled and went stock still, but Aric, though clearly shaken, continued.

“He says that he came back to his city on the third day, unable to track down the woman but ready to fight if the need arose. It was very early morning, but when he returned, the city had already been destroyed. No one was left alive, all had been murdered, and the streets ran in rivers of blood. He took a necklace, hoping to avoid being captured as a slave, and after months of traveling he headed here, to us. He had heard by passersby there was a God ruling the city, and wondered if we knew anything about this woman of fire and smoke. He says that the journey through the desert killed his horse and nearly killed him, and when he reached our gate he was taken hostage as a slaver, and the rest, we know.”

There was quiet that met the end of Galen's accounting, and Dipper expected Bill to rage or question or even laugh in disbelief. Instead the God opened and closed his mouth once, twice, and then without a word turned and left.

* * *

Dipper walked through the forest surrounding the Mystery Shack the next morning in quiet reflection of the memories he had seen, eating his breakfast of crispy bacon and toast as he moved along aimlessly.

Finally, swallowing the last mouthful of bread he asked, “Bill… was that woman Galen talked about... real?”

He knew what the answer would be, and was not surprised to hear Bill’s clipped response of * **Yes**.*

Dipper was too afraid to ask anything else, knowing he’d find out soon enough.

* * *

 

** BILL **

Bill hated every second of the memories that followed. He spent the next two weeks showing Dipper his continual state of shock that there might be another God in his world, or at least someone with phenomenal power- if what Galen said was true.

He had ordered Galen to be released, but told him that until he could be trusted he would stay by Bill’s side. This meant that Aric was also ever present, acting in tandem as both his already established position of advisor, and his new task of translator. The old man took it well in stride however, and though there were times he gripped and complained to Bill, it was obvious that he enjoyed his position by the Gods side.

Bill had thought to skip some of his memories with Galen, but with the dread of having to watch what was to come, he dragged his proverbial feet and instead showed more than was probably necessary. How he and Galen had sparred, and how shocked Bill was to lose a fight for the very first time in his life. It seemed that the claims of being an Elite Warrior were true, and while Bill eventually had bested Galen and his spear, it had taken many weeks to do so.

Bill learned the language of the Golden Sun over the course of time, and eventually Aric was not needed as a translator. He and Galen snipped at each other constantly, and seemed to always be near blows. But slowly, and without any real turning point, the harsh words lost their bite, and snarling hatred turned to tentative friendship.

Bill showed Dipper their sluggish move into hesitant camaraderie just as he had his relationship with Ravi. How he had taken Galen to the oasis to rope and break his very own stallion- a dappled grey with wild eyes and a dark mane. How they had gone together once a week to the coast to help his fisherman haul monstrous fish onto carts to be taken back to the city. How they’d hunted with one another- just as Ravi had taught Bill all those years before, using snares to catch rabbits with ears and hind legs twice as large as the ones on earth. They used bows with arrows feathered in bright blues and golds to shoot small deer like creatures that grazed in the forest, and they used Galen's favored spears to take down boars in the jungle the size of their own horses.

Bill took Galen deep into the mountains where they stayed for weeks gathering herbs and roots used for medicines that were found only at the highest peaks. They went to the farms and helped harvest strong crops of what was akin to wheat, and rows upon rows of potatoes and squash that were loaded into lines of awaiting carts and taken to market. They met ships at the harbors and kept merchants safe as they traded with them, and one day they even helped a shepard shear the hundreds of soft furred sheep whose thin textured wool made the city's customary togas.

Galen had been confused at first, questioning why Bill did not leave hunting and gathering to his people, as (to this thinking) a King should. But Bill had scoffed and asked what sort of King would leave his people to work alone and then reap the benefits of their labor.

Bill felt Dippers happiness at this response, and smiled without comment.

Soon enough, it was clear that there was no longer hesitation in their friendship. That Galen and Bill were as close as two people might ever be, and that the harsh comments they shared had no real threat in them, and more often than not they were conspirators than adversaries, mostly finding ways to pester Aric at inopportune moments.

But though happiness and life seemed to flood back into Bill, it was heavily marred. Each night he tossed and turned thinking of the woman God who may have slaughtered all of Galen's people, of the potential threat she might be to his own kingdom. He would sit by a fire each night, head in his hands, and work his way into a panic attack.

“When I did sleep,” he told Diper, “I remember dreaming of her white stag and knowing she was coming for me. I don’t know how exactly I knew, but I could feel it in every part of my being that she would be my downfall. It was almost as though it was destined to be my fate.”

Dipper had frowned, but had no comment.

Bill had enjoyed a full year friendship with Galen now. Of sparring and hunting and drinking and mischief with the dark skinned man whose eyes were both serious and full of laughter. There was no real outward hint of romantic interest, but Bill knew that Dipper had seen the looks that they shared on occasion. A meeting of eyes that lasted just a moment too long. A lingering touch of hands as Galen passed Bill a mug of ale, or as Bill handed Galen his spear before they sparred.

One evening during a private dinner Bill of the past had turned to Galen and asked in a serious tone, “What do you think of this kingdom?”

Galen had looked unprepared for such a question, and after a long moment of thought he asked, “Do you truly want to know?”

Bill had scowled at the man over his glass of wine. “I would not have asked if I did not want to know,” he replied.

Another long moment of silence, Galen chewing his leg of foul slowly as he thought over his words. Finally he said, “I think it's a fine place to live and die...but I think…” he trailed off, as though afraid to finish his sentence, and Bill huffed in impatience.

“Just tell me.”

“I think you are foolish,” Galen blurted out.

Bills eyes narrowed, obviously affronted.

“Excuse me?”

Galen groaned and pushed away his plate, opting instead to focus on the wine.

“This place is a paradise," he began. "Never have I lived somewhere with no starvation, no sickness, no struggle. You have made your people beyond happy, and they love you for it. But... Bill, you have no standing army,” Galen told the God, clearly not looking forward to the conversation he was about to have with the man who sat across from him.

“I have soldiers," insisted Bill, voice defensive.

Galen sighed deeply. “Of all your thousands of people living in your city, there are very few trained soldiers. Besides, I do not mean soldiers, I mean an army.”

“I have never needed one,” Bill said in rebuttal.”I am strong enough for all my people.”

There was silence once more as Galen seemed to mull over his next words.

“Bill," he finally said. “If the other God ever comes… you will be unprepared. Your people will not know how to defend themselves against her.”

Bill scoffed. “They should not have to fight. They should not have to protect themselves. I will always be here to keep them safe.”

“You do not know that,” Galen whispered. “My people were strong. They were battle ready. And still they lost.”

“I am a God. If I cannot keep them safe then thare is no being that could.”

Galen glared across the table at Bill. “I was not there for the battle, Bill," he said softly. "It may not only be her that comes to your city. What if she brings an army. You should not leave your people so dependant. You should let them learn to fight.”

Bill laughed a mean little laugh and asked, “And who would teach them, _you_?”

Galen's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.

“If you asked me, yes.”

Bill laughed his little not-laugh once more.

”As long as I walk this earth, my people will be well taken care of.”

The God had stood abruptly then and left the dining hall, and Dipper and Bill of the past had followed, Dipper looking anxious and stressed, and Bill unable to comfort him with the knowledge of what was to come.

When he reached his room the God-King had paced and muttered and seethed, looking half mad as he growled angrily to himself, kicking at unseen obstacles, the smell of ozone and unused power emanating around him.

And then without warning, disembodied and ethereal, a voice like thunder boomed out:

 **“WHEN THE THREE GODS ARE KNOWN THE WORLD WILL BURN,**  
**BEWARE HER COMING, AND HEED THE WORDS.”**

The God had shuddered and fell to his knees, and next to Bill Dipper had jumped in startled surprise- gasping as he watched Bill of the past's eyes roll to the back of his head, his body going limp as he collapsed unconscious to the floor, ears pouring blood.

"What the fuck just happened?!" Dipper had all but shouted, wide eyed and shocked.

Bill could not respond- couldn't trust himself to do so. His throat felt tight and his eyes seemed to burn. Instead he waved a hand and night faded into morning, the God not moving from the floor where he lay unconscious before them, the blood at his ears drying and caking to his skin.

But now in the light of the mornings rays of sunlight, perched on Bill's slumped shoulder as though it belonged nowhere else but right there, sat a pale axolotl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion is coming soon. I will fix errors as I find them!


End file.
